When the Little 
Old Lady Spoke 



BY 



ANNA McFARLANE. 




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When the Little Old Lady Spoke 



A Missionary Play. 



By Anna McFarlane. 



Copyright, 1918, Eldridge Entertainment House 



Published by- 



ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE, 

FRANKLIN, OHIO DENVER, COLO. 



«^ 



CHARACTERS yd ^jM 0\ 

MRS. WILLISON— Wife of the missionary to Buca- 

ramanga, Colombia. 
BOY — Age five, her son. 

BABY — Supposedly in the cradle on stage rear, left. 
MARIA — Native servant woman to the Willison 

family. 
ISABELLA — A native, a very old woman, decrepit. 
ROSINA — A native, quite a young woman. 
The president of the Missionary society. 
The members of the society as follows: 
MRS. DOZEY 
MRS. QUAGG 
MISS FUMBLE 
MISS DULIP 
MRS. PARKINS 
MRS. RUNDLE 
MRS. TIMS 
THE LITTLE OLD LADY 



In Three Scenes : 

I. Bucaramanga, Colombia, S. A. 
II. Any small town in Minnesota. 
III. A Mountain Cabin in Colombia. 
Time: The Present. 

Suggestions 

During the first half of the first scene, up to the* 
entrance of Rosina, any Spanish air may be softly 
strummed on a guitar back of the scenes. 

The small fire in the last scene may be imitated by 
the use of a large electric flashlight, covered with red 
and orange paper and a few small sticks. With a single 
lighted candle, rear of stage this should be the only light 
for this scene. 

The name of the state used in the second and third 
scenes may be changed to fit the locality where the play 
is being given. 

DEC 12 ISIS ©CI,D 508J5 



When the Little Old Lady Spoke. 



SCENE I. 

The living room of the Willison's, missionaries to 
Bucaramanga. The room is in confusion as it is another 
moving-day in the life of this nomad family. Packing 
boxes, a trunk, suit cases, etc., line the walls. Two chil- 
dren, a boy of five and one of three, are flaying with 
blocks on the floor — pretending to pack them. At a table 
near the window at rear of stage, Mrs. Willison is sorting 
papers, etc. She is a young woman, small, fragile, her 
sweet face unnaturally lined with anxiety and the trou- 
bles of other people. From the door r. enters Maria, a 
native, in characteristic costume. She is voluble, vol- 
canic, extravagant in her devotion to the family — she 
talks with her hands as much as with her mouth. 

Maria — Ah, Senora, the packing now of everything 
in the kitchens is complete, and lo, behold, stupid Maria 
has packed too the bread, the coffee, the cake and nothing 
is there for the Senora, for the good Doctor, for the 
blessed bambinos to eat! Not even so much as one red 
pepper — no! Ah, Senora, and I know not where I have 
put anything. 

Mrs. W. — Never mind, Maria, the ox cart will be 
here soon to take all our things to the other house and 
we'll just wait and have luncheon when we get there. 

Maria — And below in the patio is another stupid 
one to bother the Senora when she is busy — they give us 
no peace ! 

Mrs. W. — But Maria, bring her up at once ! 

Maria — The Senora will die of being too kind but I 
will bring her, the stupid, up! (Exit.) 

(Mrs. W„ continues her work until Isabella, an 
old woman in ragged black, leaning on a stick, enters.) 

Mrs. W. — Isabella! It is good to see you. Sit 
here — there — you are tired. You walked too fast! 

Isabella — They tell me, Senora — is it true? — say 

3 



U When the Little Old Lady Spoke 

that it is not true ! — that you are going away — away, 
where I will not see you ! 

Mrs. W. — Only across the city to another house, 
Isabella. 

Isabella — I will not see you then — I can not walk so 
far. For just these few weeks you have talked to me of 
things I did not know and now you are going away ! Are 
you not happy in this house? 

Mrs. W — .0, Isabella! We have been in fifteen 
houses since we came to Bucaramanga eight years ago — 
fifteen! This is the best of them all — the yard for the 
children, the lovely garden and trees, the cool big rooms 
—but Senor Castellano only gave us his house while he 
was away. Tomorrow he comes home so we must go. 

Isabella — Could you not have a house of your own?- 
Ah, Senora — I am old, listen not to me — but the women, 
the men, all about I hear them talk; how you are good! 
What you have done for them — what the good Doctor 
has done — teaching them, helping them, comforting 
them! All these people kiss your feet, Senora — begging 
you to stay. 

Mrs. W. — Listen, Isabella — you are old — you have 
known sorrow — you know what it is to want things that 
never come. For eight years we have been asking the 
people at home to send us money to build a mission, a 
home, in the center of the town like this house — where 
we might always stay to teach and help — where the peo- 
ple might always find us if they were in trouble. But 
the money does not come and we have gone from house 
to house as the owners would give them to us for two, 
three, six months ! Now there is no house to go to but 
one — Oh, Isabella, if we could only stay here! I am 
afraid — 

(Enter Maria) 

Maria — A woman in the patio and will not go away, 
though I say the Senora is occupied. (The five-year-old 
boy runs out to see tvho it is.) I would not trouble the 
Senora. 

Mrs. W. — Bring her in Maria. (Exit Maria.) 
Isabella — I see the Senora has trouble — I would lie 



When the Little Old Lady Spoke - 5 

in the dust for the Senora and the good Doctor as would 
all the people — but money I have none, Senora! 

Mrs. W — I know that too well. (Goes with Isa- 
bella to the door.) Maria will find some milk for you — 
I shall come to see you, Isabella. 

Isabella — I kiss your hands, Senora, I kiss your feet. 
Come then soon. Adios! (Exit.) 

Boy — (Running in.) It is the lady who cried, 
mother, who cried so hard. 

(Rosina enters. She is the dark, tragic, Spanish 
type. Whereas Maria is an active volcano, Rosina is 
smoldering.) 

Rosina — (Falling to her knees.) Senora — I kiss 
your feet! 

Mrs. W. — Son, help Maria find milk and bread and 
bring for Rosina. (Boy goes out.) Rosina ,where have 
you been all these months ? Your baby — 

Rosina — Yes, yes — one night, those months ago, my 
baby sick — very sick — I run quickly for the Senora 
through the streets but your house is dark, no light as 
you keep it in the window — but I knock and knock — I 
beat my head on that door and no one answer me. 

Mrs. W. — My poor Rosina ! 

Rosina — I go home — my poor little baby sick, very 
sick! I think perhaps he die. I go in the morning to 
your house and knock again. A very cross man come to 
say you are gone he knows not where. I cry to him that 
my baby die and he shut the door. Why do you leave 
that house, Senora? 

Mrs. W. — The owner came back before we expected 
him — we left very hurriedly — ten months ago ! My poor 
Rosina, could no one tell you where we were? 

Rosina — I ask and ask so they think me crazy. The 
priest say to me that you go away far to pome back no 
more and my baby die ! 

Mrs. W. — I should have hunted for you! 

Rosina — The priest say you have killed my baby — 
ah, Senora, I know that is not so — and the priest say 
that baby damned because of no baptism! There is no 
place to bury that little baby — the priest ask for money, 
then more money and I can not find it. I am sick with 



6 When the Little Old Lady Spoke 

fear for my little baby to be damned and the priest ask 
all the time for money. I could not find you, Senora — 
till today I was sick so I could not look for you. Now at 
last — 

Mrs. W. — Look at me, Rosina. That was not true 
what the priest told you about the dear baby — not true, 
do you hear? 

Rosina — (Repeating after her.) Not true! 

Mrs. W. — Have you forgotten all I taught you? 

Rosina — No, no, Senora — just to see you, to hear it 
again ! Now I know, yes — I remember. I kiss your feet, 
Senora — I go now because I have found work in Perlita's 
shop on the plaza but I will come back. 

Mrs. W. — Yes, you must come very often but we 
are leaving this house today. 

.Rosina— Leaving ? 

Mrs. W. — Yes, moving again. Dr. Willison is there 
now, preparing the house. I wish we weren't going. 

Rosina — Where do you go, Senora? 

Mrs. W. — See, I will write it down for you — at the 
foot of the City Hill, the last street — 

Rosina — (Horrified.) The last street, Senora? 

Mrs. W. — Yes, just above the stream. 

Rosina — That is not a stream, Senora! 

Mrs. W. — No, it is not. 

Rosina — The gutters from the city run into that 
ditch ! 

Mrs. W. — Yes, yes, I know, Rosina — but it is the 
only house in the city we could get — the last house on 
the street — I will write it. 

Rosina — (Whispers in terror) The house of Rod- 
riguez ! 

(Enter boy with milk and bread for Rosina. 
Maria with her arms filled tvith boxes.) 

Maria — The man with the ox-cart is at the door and 
already have I loaded it with boxes — so high — and the 
man wishes to know where he is to go. 

Mrs. W. — (With her back to Maria — her voice heavy 
with anxiety.) To the Casa del Rodriguez. 



When the Little Old Lady Spoke 7 

Maria — (Drops boxes with a clatter.) Senora — 
then we do not go where the boxes go? 

Mrs. W. — Yes, Maria. Doctor Willison is there now, 
getting the house ready for us. 

Maria — Senora — but — the house of Rodriguez — 
where they die — it is accursed — the people cover their 
faces when they go by ! There is every disease there and 
below it is the great gutter of the city. We shall die — 
the Senora, the good doctor, the bambinos ! Senora — no 
— tell me no — tell the man no ! Senora ! Senora ! 

Mrs. W. — Maria, you have your own family — if they 
would not want you to go, if you are afraid, you must not 
go. Dr. Willison has hunted over and over the city for 
weeks — there is nothing else. We must have a place to 
sleep — a place to teach! It is cleaned now and we will 
paint and scrub. My husband says we must not be afraid 
— but my dear Maria, when you have helped the man 
with the cart, you must go, then, back to stay with your 
family. 

Maria — The Senora goes to the house of Rodriguez? 

Mrs. W. — I must. 

Maria — We shall die — it is accursed — but maybe the 
good Jesu — I will hurry, then, and begin to scrub! 
CURTAIN 

SCENE II. 

A small town missionary society gathering for their 
monthly meeting. The president sits at a table at the 
left, facing several roivs of chairs arranged up and down 
stage. Four or five members are present and others keep 
coming in throughout the scene until 15 or 20 are pres- 
ent and the chairs fairly well filled. The Little Old Lady, 
one of the first comers, sits in the back row. The cos- 
tumes may be ridiculous as desired, although the general 
impression should be of well-fed, well-housed, easy-going, 
comfort-loving Americans — except for the Little Old 
Lady. Local color which can be added from any society's 
own experiences, vjould add greatly to the conversation 
of the missionary ladies. A piano left front. 



8 When the Little Old Lady Spoke 

President — Ladies, though there are so few here, I 
think it best we'd come to order. 

(Mrs. Dozey and Mrs. Quagg, sitting together in 
the second row, exchange recipes.) 

Mrs. Dozey — Yes, only one egg, Mrs. Quagg. (All 
the ladies interested.) 

Mrs. Quagg — Is that both yolk and white, Mrs. Do- 
zey? 

President — Ladies, please come to order. 

Mrs. Dozey — (Before settling down to order) Yes, 
and of course the shell for coffee. 

President — We will open with a hymn but we'll sing 
without the organ as I don't see any one here who can 
. play. (Several ladies look hurt, among them Miss 
Dulip, who attracts the president's attention.) Oh, yes, 
(resigned) Miss Dulip, will you play? Number 3. 
(They sing rather badly "On Calvary's Brow," or any 
other hymn.) We will leave the Scripture reading and 
the business as so few are here and begin with the pro- 
gram. 

Miss Fumble — Well, I know Mrs. Tims is coming, 
because she's to be hostess. 

Miss Dulip — I saw Mrs. Wilkins down street and 
she said she'd of come if anybody'd taken the trouble to 
call her up. She was quite hurt. 

Miss Fumble — Neither Mrs. Bing or Mrs. Tuttles 
will come because they're mad at each other and each 
one's afraid the other will be here. 

Mrs. Dozey — Mrs. Sleeper wants us to change to an 
evening meeting because she can't get her work done in 
time to come. 

Mrs. Quagg — Yes, an' Mrs. — 

President — (Interrupting.) We must go on ladies 
— we'll decide all those things next meeting. Mrs. Per- 
kins will read her paper, "What We Have Done for 
India." 

Mrs. Parkins — (Rises slowly from her place near the 
back row, drops most of her papers as she walks to the 
front, collects them and finally lays them out on the table 
— though they seem to be in great disorder as she can* 
never just lay her hand on the notes she wants. She has 



When the Little Old Lady Spoke 9 

a habit of pausing to look over her glasses at her aud- 
ience.) I (Long search through papers) I couldn't 
find much about this subject — my husband said he 
thought it was a very foolish subject for the committee 
to give. (One member of the committee has just come 
in. Two of the others beckon to her and relate in whis- 
pers ivhat has been said. They are much hurt and do not 
pay much attention to the speaker after this.) India is 
a very interesting country — very. The inhabitants num- 
ber — now I think I have the exact number here some- 
where — yes, 9,450 — 9,450 inhabitants. (startled) Oh, 
no, no — that is sects ! Well I thought that was a very in- 
teresting fact — 9,450 sects. They are scattered all over 
the country in different parts, mostly in the south. (She 
uses a long pointer, displaying a map on the ivall behind 
her, but her ideas of the geography of the country are. 
vague.) The climate of India is very warm, very warm, 
which may account for, but certainly does not excuse the 
disgraceful way the people go around — just disgraceful! 
And men who write books on India seem to take the 
greatest pleasure in taking pictures of these people. It 
should be stopped. I brought one to show you which I 
will pass around. (She has difficulty finding the right 
picture) Now I wanted to read to you ladies a little 
piece I found — (search is vain this time) well, I can't 
find it just now but I may come to it — I wanted to say 
that the most dreadful thing is this about child widows ! 
It is really dreadful! Why you've no idea how hard it 
is for those poor children. They certainly do have a 
hard time ! There are two main rivers in India, the Gan- 
ges and the — well, the Ganges is the main river. That's 
where they throw all the children, you know. It certainly 
should be stopped. I think it is dreadful — dreadful (try- 
ing to cover pause as she searches the hopelessly mixed 
pages of her notes) Now there are very few people 
that I would call Christians in India — (finds paper) Oh, 
here it is — population 300,000,000 and this is the name 
of the river, Irawadi, queer isn't it? And here is a name 
Rat — (looks closely) Rat-na-jira — I don't know why I 
put that down. It's a town — yes, a town in India. It's 
such an interesting country — and such queer names. Oh, 



10 When the Little Old Lady Spoke 

here is the piece I wanted to read — (Reads, stumblingly, 
as though it was entirely new to her, some inappropriate 
poem or paragraph — for instance some of the most ab- 
struse stanzas of the Rubaiyat) I just wish you could 
all read all the books I've read — I know you would enjoy 
it as much as I have. (Collects papers and returns in 
great satisfaction to her seat. Other ladies clap mildly) 

President — Thank you, Mrs. Parkins, I'm sure we've 
all been impressed with the amount of time you've put 
on your paper. A most helpful talk. 

Mrs. Rundle — Did you mention Rat-na-jiri, Mrs. 
Parkins ? 

Mrs. Parkins — (Looks hastily through her papers) 
Yes — yes, I did. 

Mrs. Rundle — Well, I have here a package of picture 
post-cards and I've had them for some time and I'd be 
thankful if some one would tell me what is to be done 
with them. Someone in some queer place wanted them 
— though for what I can't imagine — and I was to send 
them but I've forgotten where. I thought it might be 
this Rats-in-jira. 

Miss Fumble — I thought they were to go to the 
Freedman. 

Miss Dulip — No, those were the old magazines and 
rubbers. 

Mrs. Quagg — I remember we had a letter about 
them. 

President — If the secretary would only come we 
could find out. 

Mrs. Quagg — Well, I move that we put off sending 
them till next month. Wherever they're going I guess 
they can wait for them another month. 

Mrs. Rundle — From what I know of the mission- 
aries, they're never satisfied — soon as you get through 
raising money for one thing they want it for something 
else. If we send 'em post-cards, why next month they'll 
want some more so I say wait till next month and save 
that much postage. 

(As all the ladies are murmuring approval of this 
speech, Mrs. Tims enters loaded with baskets of refresh- 
ments, rear r.) 



When the Little Old Lady Spoke 11 

Mrs. Tims — My land, thought I'd never get here I 
Gracious, but what a big meeting' I only counted on 
twelve. This is the worst society I ever saw — .seems 
though sometimes people come just to plague you when 
you haven't enough refreshments. 

Mrs. Dozey — I've noticed that. 

President — Mrs. Tims, we've been waiting for the 
treasurer's report. Will you give it now. 

Mrs. Tims — (Fumbles in one of her baskets) Well, 
there, I declare, I can't find it. But I remember we don't 
owe anything, were all paid up and have five dollars in 
the contingent fund. 

Mrs. Quagg — I never could see through that contin- 
gent fund. 

Mrs. Tims — Well, it's been explained to you enough 
times. 

President — It's good we've so much money because 
we're being asked for something extra. 

Mrs. Tims — There, wouldn't you know it — just the 
minute we're paid up! (Murmurs of disapproval and 
indignation throughout the society.) 

President — Well, this is called Minnesota Special — 
I don't understand it much, but I gather that they want 
to buy a lot and put up a house for some missionary in 
Buc — good gracious! — Buc-ar-a-manga in South Amer- 
ice. Let's .see Wilfrid's the name — no— Willison — and 
the ladies of Minnesota are to do it. 

Mrs. Tims — And why Minnesota, I'd like to know? 

Mrs. Dozey — House and lot! If these missionaries 
would economize a little and rent some cozy little flat we 
wouldn't have to be everlastingly sacrificing, ourselves. 

Miss Dulip — 0, yes, missionaries have to have every- 
thing — hired girls and carriages and now house and lot 
— they'll be wanting airplanes next. 

President — Well, we don't need to pay our share, I 
suppose, if we don't want to. We can just write and sug- 
gest that they wait for another year. 

Mrs. Quagg — Yes, building's so high. I think they 
ought to wait till after the war anyway. 

Miss Fumble — Yes, just write and tell them to be 
contented where they are 'till after the war. 



12 When the Little Old Lady Spoke 

The Little Old Lady — (whose sweet old face is 
vaguely troubled. Rises slowly from her chair.) Mad- 
am President — could I say a word or two. I know I'm old 
and not as smart at seeing through things as you young 
folks, but after you spoke about some special money that 
was wanted for some people in South America, I got to 
thinking and I didn't hear much what you other ladies 
said. Most of us take lots of pleasure in using our im- 
aginations about people in books or in pictures or on 
street cars. I do, I know, and sometimes I get to imagin- 
ing about missionaries ! Now, that word, "Special," sort 
of scares me — it usually means something mighty im- 
portant, something you've got to hurry with, and so I've 
been imagining those missionaries down in South Amer- 
ica where Mrs. Tims told us last month, it's so hot, and 
■ the people so dirty and eating such queer things — and I 
can just see that little missionary woman maybe longing 
for a clean house of her own and a nice yard where the 
children can play — missionaries always have children — 
maybe there are no flats to rent and maybe they're living 
in one of those hot, dirty houses with the sun beating 
down and no friends of their own kind to talk to or 
things they like to eat, and maybe the children get sickly 
— and I can see that missionary man not knowing which 
to do, go on serving the Lord, giving his life to Him, or 
to leave the work and come back here with his wife and 
children where everybody has clean houses and yards! 
So, ladies, when missionaries ask for something and ask 
for it "Special" why it sort of scares me and I just 
wouldn't dare to buy a new bonnet — though I've worn 
this one seven years — I'd be afraid if I did perhaps 
those little sickly children might get worse — perhaps that 
little missionary woman who's watching every day for 
a letter from home bringing the money — perhaps she 
would get to thinking we'd forgotten her. So, here's the 
money for my bonnet, ladies, and I want you to send that 
whether you send the rest or not. 

President — Well, I don't know what to do, ladies. 
(Two or three of the members are plainly sniffing.) 

Mrs. Tims — My land, I guess we can raise that 
money, now we've got a start. 



When the Little Old Lady Spoke IS 

Miss Dulip — Yes, we can collect old magazines. 
Miss Fumble — There's lots of money in old rubber, 

(Amid general enthusiasm on ways and means 
for raising money the curtain goes down.) 

CURTAIN 

SCENE III. 

It is night in the mountain cabin. Rough tables and 
chairs, of bamboo, if possible. Against the rear wall, 
dimly shown, is a cot and Mrs. Willison lying as if utterly 
weary. At the front r. over a small fire are crouched 
Rosina and Maria. A door at I. opens outdoors, one at r. 
on another room. Rosina and Maria speak in hushed 
voices, rather frightened. 

Maria — Ah, Rosina, but yes — yesterday you said 
Manana and the day before yesterday you said Manana, 
and the day before that, Manana — and today Manana — 
but each day the Senora is worse. Ah, I tell by the doc- 
tor's face it is so! And some day it will be too late, 
there will be no Manana for the Senora ! No, for here the 
heart is sick — and in her eyes yet are tears for the bam- 
bino in Bucaramanga. Ah, Rosina, what do you think 
— there was no baptism! 

Rosina — It makes no difference, Maria — the Senora 
told me so — now her baby and my little baby are to- 
gether, happy. 

Maria — Ah, maybe so — but the good doctor only 
sits with his head in his hands and the boy asks him to 
play, he is so lonely. Oh, I could cry to see them, Rosina. 
Do you think those people in that North America are 
good, Rosina? Tell me — if they are good would they let 
the Senora go to that house of Rodriguez (Both icemen 
shudder) would they let that baby die — do they care 
that the Senora is sick with fever — that the doctor closed 
his school to bring us here to the mountain where the 
air is good? 

Rosina — Ah, that journey — the bad road — those 



1U When the Little Old Lady Spoke 

wicked burros who stumble, stumble! My poor back is 
very sick. 

Maria — Yes — but the dear Senora who said not a 
word, not a little moan, though her hand held tight to 
the good doctor — If they are good, do they leave the Se- 
nora to die because the heart is sick, tell me? 

Rosina — I know not, Maria — perhaps Manana will 
be a new day. 

Maria — (Impatiently) Manana! 

(A tapping noise at the window. Both women 
are startled.) 

Rosina — I will go to see — stay you, the doctor said 
to not leave the Senora. (Exit 1.) 

Mrs. W. — (Tired, faint voice.) Maria! (Maria 
runs to the cot.) 

Mrs. W. — Is there no word from home? (Maria si- 
lent) They have forgotten. They have so much! My 
poor boys — are they asleep, Maria? 

Maria — The good doctor and the boy sleep in the 
next room. Will I call them, Senora? 

Mrs. W. — No, no, it is good that they sleep. 

Rosina — (Enters. Motions Maria front where they 
whisper.) A boy from the town, with this and already 
he sleeps on the floor — such a journey! A letter he said 
for the doctor. 

Maria — It is not in looks like a letter — so yellow. 

Rosina — The boy said, "Give to the doctor now." 

Maria — Ah me, ah me, I know not if I should wake 
the good doctor. I like not these yellow things. I am 
afraid, Rosina — it is dark on the mountain — hear the 
wind! 

Rosina — But the boy was told not to stop 'till he 
gave the yellow thing to the doctor. 

Maria — Would it be best for me to open and read? 
Oh, I know not, I know not. 

Mrs. W. — Maria! (Both women start, terrified) 
Maria, what is it? 

Maria — (Unable to keep from telling her) It is a 
boy with a message for the good doctor — I know not if 
I should wake him, Senora ! 



When the Little Old Lady Spoke 



15 



Mrs. W. — No. Come near where I can see. 

Rosina — It is a yellow thing. 

Mrs. W. — Not a letter! (Puts out her hand for it) 

Maria — Do not trouble, Senora, it will wait till Ma- 
nana when the good doctor wakes. 

Mrs. W. — Bring the candle, Rosina. Open, Maria — 
maybe it will not wait for manana! Now read — do not 
tremble — read carefully. 

Maria — (On her knees by the cot, facing Mrs. W., 
while Rosina holds the candle back of her. Maria reads 
painfully.) "Doctor Williams, Bucaramanga — One thou- 
sand — dollars — forwarded — today — for lot — money for 
house — pledged — work^must go — on — we are behind 
you — God — bless — you — 

"Minnesota Society." 
(Pause.) 

Maria — Is it good, Senora? 

Mrs. W. — Yes, my Maria, very good — I thought 
maybe it would be too late but no, now I shall get well — 
it is a stone off my heart ! 

Maria — Do not cry — I will call the good doctor. 

Mrs. W. — No, let him sleep. I cry because my heart 
is light — Oh, I shall get well, Maria. Those people are 
good, they are very good. 

Maria — They are slow! 

Rosina — (Pointing to growing light outdoors.) 
See, already it is Manana! 

CURTAIN 




NEW RED CROSS PLAY FOR GIRLS 

CAPTAIN ANNE of the RED CROSS 



•0R- 



How the Militant Ghosts Saved Millville 

Here is a genuine Red Cross Comedy for 10 
girl characters. A happy play that will send 
your Chapter over the top with a smile on 
any kind of a drive. 

"Capt. Anne of the Red Cross" has just 
been written by Miss Merab Eberle and while 
dignifying the great Order of Mercy the act- 
ion proceeds with a spirit of fun that will 
make a hit in any community. 

The plot deals with an attempt to destroy a 
munition factory by foreign plotters and how 
the girls of the surgical dressing class, robed 
in their gowns, frightened them away. A 
welcome relief in these days of sober numbers 
on entertainment programs. 

One interior setting. Easily costumed and 
staged. Time about one hour and a half. 

^iv^PRICE 25 CENTS ^-mm^ 

THE ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE 

FRANKLIN, OHIO also "BBS 1 DENVER, COLO. 



The Pageant of the Hour 

Especially recommended for a Red Cross 
benefit or any patriotic entertainment to raise 
funds for the army at home or abroad. :: :: 

The SPIRIT OF 



DEMOCRACY 



11 



AN ALLEGORICAL PAGEANT OF THE 
WORLD WAR, IN BLANK VERSE, 

= By MERAB EBERLE ; 

The action takes place at the throne of 
Autocracy, following a brief prologue by the 
prophet. The allies come to the aid of the 
Spirit of Democracy and crush Autocracy. :: 

The pageant may be given indoors or out- 
doors and is dapable of simple or elaborate 
production. :: :: :: :: :: :: 

A SPLENDID FEATURE ON ANY PATRIOTIC PROGRAM 

16 characters, male and female or allf emale. 
Time about 30 minutes. :: :: :: :: 

-^.^PRICE 25 CENTS _^^> 

ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE 

FRANKLIN, OHIO jt j. J. DENVER, COLO. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




017 400 379 8 



ANOTHER PATRIOTIC M0N0L0G 



"WHEN MONTY CAME HOME 
FROM THE MARNE" 



By SEYMOUR S. TIBBALS 



""JTHE STORY tells of a widow's son, a peace- 
* ful young farmer, who enlisted in the U. 

S. Marines and lost an arm, as his father lost 

an arm at Shiloh. A stirring description of a 

gas attack and how the Marines won the 

fight. 
The climax is reached when Monty comes 

back and drives the cattle up the lane. 
Suitable for any reader and a number that 

will be welcome on any program. 



PRICE 25 CENTS 



THE ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE 

FRANKLIN, OHIO also I 1 nSt DENVER, COLO. 



